


Spilled Fruit Punch and Sticky Strawberries

by ProstheticLoVe



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 10 Years Apart, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Future Fic, Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich in Love, Ian and Mickey with kids, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mentions of Carl, Mentions of Franny, Past Fic, Season 4/5, mentions of Liam, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: Ian and Mickey celebrate Valentine’s Day 10 years apart.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 8
Kudos: 161





	Spilled Fruit Punch and Sticky Strawberries

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: no one belongs to me!
> 
> For Valentine’s Day, I wanted to write a little one shot. The first part takes place between season 4/5 and the second part is set after season 10. I hope you guys like it! If you feel so inclined, please drop a comment! Thanks! And Happy Valentine's Day!

Mickey wasn’t able to get the image of Ian laying in bed out of his head. He couldn’t make those blank eyes disappear. Those usually bright green eyes seemed to be void of everything that represented his ginger giant. 

When he closed his own eyes, all he could see was Ian blankly staring at the wall. Or those usually lush, emerald orbs giving him a look that made him want to reach forward and shake some sense back into him. 

It had been two weeks since Ian had finally removed himself from bed. And since then, he had taken the route of ignoring what had happened. In the weeks that followed, Mickey watched with almost disbelief as Ian began to become Ian again.

He recognized that he was almost there, but still, that image shimmered behind his eyelids every morning and he waited to see his vision come to fruition again.

It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop, much like Fiona had hinted at, much like Lip had tried to drill into his brain. 

As he watched Ian slowly become a bit more energetic with each passing day, he began to read about what Fiona had called _bipolar disorder_. 

He’d lie and say he was going to the Rub And Tug, when really he went to the Chicago Public Library a bus ride and a train ride away, where he’d get lost in the stacks about mental health and bipolar disorder.

He learned about the disease Ian supposedly had and the more he read about it, the more he realized that this was it.

This was the new Ian; this was what he and Ian would need to deal with together. And Mickey wasn’t 100 percent sure he knew exactly what he said he was so willing to dive into. Because he’d seen Ian at a low and he’d seen Ian at his high, but what happened...what happened if it got worse or Ian got...not that Ian would...but Mickey remembered hearing about how his mom had slit her wrists at Thanksgiving during her low period. 

And well, Mickey had seen a lot of things, but he wasn’t sure what he’d do in that situation. He wasn’t sure that he’d want to handle something like that. He couldn’t imagine, Ian, _his_ Ian, doing _something like that_.

When that image flashed across his brain, he tried to angrily beat it away, but sometimes the moment would burn itself into his mind and it stayed with him.

He told himself, he’d take Ian to a hospital, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing all of that red spilling from his body, like spilled fruit punch on the counter.

The image usually followed after the one of Ian laying in bed, conjured by his mind unwillingly.

Mickey was thinking about all of this as he made his way home, his backpack slung over his shoulders, a hunch in his walk, and a cigarette permanently between his fingers as he stood waiting for the bus in the cold. The few other people at the stop, eyed him wearily and he shot them a disgruntled look before looking straight ahead at the CVS where a couple wandered out caring matching heart shaped chocolates.

He snorted when he saw them and brought his cigarette up to his lips finally seeing the bus coming in the distance.

Tossing his cigarette, he got in line behind a woman carrying flowers. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of them, unfamiliar with the scent, before getting on the bus to head home, his mind swimming with bipolar symptoms and wondering if Ian will be back in bed or making a billion pancakes to feed them dinner.

* * *

  
Ian was indeed making dinner when Mickey got home, but he was surprised to find the house was empty besides for them.

“What are you doing?” Mickey asked spying a prayer candle on the center of the table with mismatched dishware set for two and a six pack of beer.

“What’s this?” he added gesturing to the table. He threw his bag in front of his door and then advanced further into the kitchen.

Ian tossed him a gleeful look and threw some more food into the pan on the stove. “I’m making us dinner.”

“Why? Where’s Svet and the kid?”

Ian glanced at Mickey quickly and then began to chop an onion on the cutting board. “Out. I had them leave, so it could be just us. She’s with Nika. I gave them some money to see a movie so we could have the place to ourselves.” Ian said loudly and quickly.

Mickey moved toward him and looked into the pot to see what Ian was making. 

“I didn’t realize you were a chef.” he said not knowing how he should feel about this new development. 

On the one hand, he liked coming home to Ian cooking him dinner. On the other, he was a little concerned about his energy levels and whether it was natural or...unnatural. Ian had been sullen this morning, still a little withdrawn, but he had smiled at Mickey before he pulled him closer and tucked his head in his neck until the brunette actually did have to head to the Rub And Tug.

Ian chuckled a little too loudly and began to cut a bit faster, “I didn’t know when you’d be getting home, but I wanted to make sure everything was perfect. I know I’ve been...I’ve been difficult, but I’m fine now, honest, Mickey, I’m totally fine.” 

Mickey looked up from the table and over toward him to see his fingers lingering in the way of the knife a little too long. 

“Ian, I know.” Mickey said quietly watching his fingers grab at the few vegetables Ian seemed to have scrounged together.

He cleared his throat and looked up to see Ian still focusing on the vegetables.

“I just wanted everything to be _perfect_ for Valentine’s Day.” He said as if he hadn’t heard Mickey. “It needs to be perfect.”

“I don’t want you to think I’d forgotten. I couldn’t forget you.” Ian said quietly almost speaking to himself, and Mickey winced as he nearly cut himself.

Mickey moved forward quickly, “can I help?”

Ian’s head whipped up and he gave him a small smile, “I’m supposed to be making dinner for _you_.”

“I didn’t get you anything.” Mickey stated eyeing the knife, wanting Ian to stop waving the instrument around dangerously. “Sorry.” he added as an afterthought.

Ian chuckled, the same loud laugh as before and then turned back to cutting the onion. “Kash bought me chocolates once, but that’s about it. I’ve always wanted to do a Valentine’s Day dinner. It just seemed so fucking romantic, you know. I got this idea today when I was watching Yev and Liam and some commercial came on, Mick, it was a fucking commercial about flowers or some shit, but I realized - I realized, we’ve fucking never done Valentine’s Day. Like, we’ve technically been together for four fucking years and we’ve never done Valentine’s Days, so I fucking _knew_ I needed to do this for you.”

Mickey bristled at the reminder of Kash, but continued to focus on getting the knife away from Ian without Ian a) noticing and b) cutting himself.

“How about I cut and you stir. What are you making, Gallagher?” Mickey’s hand obviously touched his elbow and he felt the muscles in Ian’s arm loosen.

“Stir fry. I stole the candles from the church around the corner. Do you like them? I wanted everything to be perfect. I didn’t get you anything and Mickey, I really want to show how much I’ve...you’ve helped...there’s nothing wrong...just thanks.” Ian choked out glancing up at Mickey and straight into his eyes.

Mickey had a flash of those emotionless eyes staring at him and he had the urge to reach forward and hug him, making sure he never looked like that again. But instead, he wrapped his hand around the knife and slowly took it from him.

“No need to thank me with dinner, Gallagher, you know I’m a sure thing.” Mickey forced out a note of laughter. 

Ian grinned and leaned forward to smash his lips against Mickey’s. His tongue grazed against his lips and Mickey felt Ian smile against him before pulling away. 

“You know...there’s only one thing I want. Sometimes, I think you’re the only thing I’ll ever want.” Ian whispered before moving forward and kissing him again harder on the lips. 

Mickey felt Ian’s hands cradle his head - a surprisingly soft gesture compared to the hardness of the kiss. He wanted to move to touch Ian, but he realized that the knife was still in hand.

He put the knife down before pressing himself against the redhead. Leaving sloppy kisses down the side of Ian’s jaw, he tugged down the zipper of his jeans. 

Ian pulled back suddenly and Mickey made a noise of protest. 

“Let me cook, I need to cook. Then we can fuck.” Ian said grabbing the knife again and beginning to chop the onion.

“Seriously? You’re making me wait?” Mickey whined.

“I have to finish this. I don’t want to ruin it. I can’t ruin it.” Ian said and began to cut quickly.

Mickey moved forward just as Ian moved the knife too quickly and cut his finger. He lunged forward, but Ian barely seemed to notice as he kept cutting. The blood slithered down Ian’s pale fingers and began to drip onto the plate Ian was using as a cutting board. The bleeding wasn’t going to stop, so Mickey grabbed his hand to put under the running water. 

“Stop, it’s nothing.” Ian said trying to get his hand back to continue cooking.

“Ian, come on. Let’s clean your hand up and then order some take out. It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s Valentine’s Day, Mickey. I want to make you a nice dinner.” Ian said suddenly shifting his whole demeanor to anger.

Mickey stared at his smooth features twisting into irritation and he looked down at his bloody hand. His mind was automatically ticking off the symptoms he’d been reading about and he knew that he needed to try a different tactic.

“Put a bandaid on. I’ll help you clean up and cut all the food.” he said and he felt Ian ease up next to him.

He saw Ian look ashamed and turned his head down. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be difficult. I just, I ruined it. I didn’t mean to, but I did. I fucking ruined it.” he said in a hushed tone.

Mickey looked down and into the sink to watch the water run over the wound on Ian’s finger. His hand gripped his wrist and Mickey felt his stomach turn uncomfortably. 

“I just want to help, man.” he said eventually and then he grabbed a cleanish looking towel, wetted some of it, and then pressed it into Ian’s hand. 

He gripped the towel and then immediately went to the stove muttering about burning the food. Mickey watched him for a moment before picking up the knife, cleaning it and the makeshift cutting board, and taking over slicing the onion. 

* * *

  
**10 Years Later**

Mickey wasn’t having a great day. He was running late to pick up the kids. He’d gotten held up at work, then missed the train, the daycare nurse told him Jamie had thrown a toy at another kid, and finally, they were stuck on their way home with some bullshit excuse about fucked up lines on The L.

It was just one of those types of days. 

He pulled his phone out with the hand that was holding their 4 year old daughter, Ella’s hand, and called Ian. Mostly, he needed to ask him what he was thinking for dinner, but also, he just wanted to hear his voice after this fucking shitty day. He tilted his shoulder to the side to hold the phone and tightened his grip on the two year old, Jamie, on his hip as he tried to make sure the kids weren’t jostled around too much.

“Are you on your way home?” Ian asked.

“Fucking train is held up. We should be there, hopefully, in 10. I was going to stop and grab dinner--”

“Don’t bother. I’m making some.” Ian said quickly.

Mickey smiled softly and wondered what healthy concoction his husband was going to shove down his throat tonight.

Ian had read some stupid article about how to get your kids to eat healthy, you had to eat healthy, so he had started cooking better. He kept saying he wanted everyone to live long healthy lives. So some bullshit health diet manifested itself. Basically, he was making them eat like rabbits. 

Including Liam and Carl who lived with them as well.

“Can--”

The conductor cut Mickey off and he sighed in relief as they began to move again. 

“We’ll be home soon.” he said.

“Good. Love you.” Ian said.

“Love you too.” He hung the phone up before sliding it into his pocket. He felt tugging on his arm and he looked down at Ella who looked up at him with bright blue eyes and flaming strawberry colored hair.

“Daddy-o? Can I play with your phone?” 

Mickey smirked down at the four year old before running a hand through her red hair to mess it up and displace her bow. She gave him a glare and righted her hair again with an angry huff.

“Don’t do that! Daddy made it look so pretty this morning.” she grumbled and crossed her arms looking like a perfect imitation of himself.

“Mess up Jaime’s hair.” she added leaning into him as The L took off to the Gallagher-Milkovich household.

They got off at their stop, which wasn’t too much further and then they began to walk the short trek to the house that Mickey had considered to be his first real home. 

After much debate about staying in the household Ian had grown up in, they had decided to stay a little while longer until they could save up to move out of what Mickey could only describe as a shithole. 

He hadn’t planned on them staying there when Debbie had given birth to Ella, but sometimes, you couldn’t plan for these things. 

He also really didn’t plan for them to live there forever, but with Liam and Carl, it would be difficult to find a large enough space for all of them. Besides, most of the time, Mickey didn’t mind the house, it was just when something triggered a flashback to their old lives.

For the time being, it had been pretty relaxed, but Mickey chalked that up to six people living in the house instead of the 50 fucking people that seemed to parade through there before.

Almost a year after they had gotten married, Ian began to desperately want a child. And Mickey, because he was a huge pussy, only wanted to give his husband everything. Obviously, they couldn’t have one biologically, so Ian had asked Debbie if she could be their surrogate and with the help of V and a baster, they had managed to get his little guys to swim toward one of his sister-in-law’s eggs without them needing to do it the old-fashioned way, much to everyone’s relief.

Jamie’s conception was a bit easier, but more fucked up.

He had been abandoned in a winter storm at The L stop near their house. Mickey had been on his way to work when he almost tripped over the screaming kid who was near frozen. He had rushed the kid to the hospital and called Ian who was at home with Liam, Franny, and Ella. They ended up at the hospital and after an odd turn of events, they were allowed to adopt the kid. While his coloring was more Mickey’s, his personality was definitely Ian’s.

Fuck genetics or nature or whatever.

Mickey knew it all came down to was the environment and both of those kids were 100 percent his and Ian’s, regardless of where they may have originated from.

Finally arriving home, Mickey unlocked the now always locked front door and entered the house to find it looking clean.

He frowned mentally trying to figure out why it was so clean, when Ian popped his head out of the kitchen and smiled at the three of them. “Hey, guys!” 

“Who cleaned?” Mickey asked suspiciously and put Jamie down to begin taking off his jacket and then helping Ella with hers.

“I did. Carl helped.” Ian said moving toward the stove and continued to cook whatever he had been making. 

It smelled good though and Mickey acknowledged that as Ella bolted away and up the stairs, her brother toddling to the couch and crawling on top of it.

Mickey glanced at him to make sure nothing sharp was left around from Carl. Baby proofing was for soft motherfuckers Mickey and Ian had decided when they brought the first kid home. Obviously, every kid that had grown up in the Gallagher household had turned out alright, so why not their kids?

“Where’s Liam and Carl?” he asked coming into the kitchen and seeing chaos in the kitchen. He blinked taking in how every cupboard was open, all of the stove tops were used and there was a bowl of red thick liquid with a spoon slowly sinking into it. Ian was at the stove stirring each of the pots, all at varying stages of being cooked.

“Jesus, Ian. What the fuck is all of this food?” Mickey asked surprised and taken aback by the mass amount of mess in the kitchen.

Ian glanced over and smiled sweetly at him. “I got you something.” he said.

Mickey stared at him trying to see if he had been missing any signs of Ian’s meds slipping up - those signs he was always looking for, but then Ian’s words processed through his brain. 

“What?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mickey.” Ian said leaning in and kissing him gently on the lips.

Mickey felt a weird dip go from his chest to his stomach and the shock delayed his response to Ian’s kiss. Before he could respond, Ian pulled away and turned one of the knobs on the stove.

Mickey swallowed and headed toward the table feeling a little out of it when he noticed the flowers in a glass-looking vase - it was plastic when he touched it - and the small box of chocolates on the table.

“I have another surprise, but that’s after dinner.” Ian said coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist.

Mickey smiled despite himself and picked up the red envelope - sure to be cheesy. He felt a lump form in his throat and he swallowed thickly at the idea of Ian going out and buying a card, flowers, and chocolates. 

It was _so Ian_ to be so fucking cheesy and over the top. While Ian didn’t do it often, he did love a grand gesture and for whatever reason, he had chosen tonight to be a grand gesture type of day. 

Mickey figured that it was probably because of Valentine’s Day, but they’d never cared about that in the past. Well, except for the time when Ian decided he _had_ to make dinner for him during that winter he had his first major low.

In the beginning of their marriage, Mickey had wondered on a few occasions if Ian’s meds were working right when he went over the top on some grand gesture type shit, but as it went on and everything else seemed pretty stable, he realized that it was just a part of their relationship now. 

And Mickey kinda loved it.

He wondered every time that it happened what the trigger was and how he could show Ian he cared and loved this without having to verbalize it.

Because it made him feel a little more vulnerable than he would like when he acknowledged loving the small - or really large and sweet - things that Ian did.

“I know we don’t usually do this stuff, but I realized we’ve never really celebrated Valentine’s Day. And my coworkers were asking what we were doing.” Ian shrugged and leaned over and kissed his cheek before heading back to the stove. “I figured it would be nice, especially cause I know you’ve been stressed at work and shit lately.” he paused again as he tasted the sauce he seemed to be making in one of the pans. “And you’ve been eating really healthy. I figured a cheat day would show the kids that there are rewards to going after what you want.” 

Mickey gave a watery laugh and went to open the card only half paying attention to what was going on. He hoped Ian didn’t notice his shaking hands.

Opening the evelope, sure enough he found a stupid image of a cartoon dog with a bubble of speech above his head. 

Ian had written in ‘fucking’ so it read ‘I fucking Ruff You.’ He opened the card and smiled even wider when he saw the inside. The card said ‘Very Much.’ Ian had written “Words cannot describe how much’ and while it wasn’t a card filled with poetry and sonnets and shit. It was so much more to Mickey.

“Fucking soft motherfucker.” Mickey said turning to look at Ian with raised eyebrows. 

He grinned and went to grab the too small shitty strainer to pour the pasta into. He went over to him and once he was finished dumping the pot of noodles into the strainer, Mickey caught him around the waist and moved to kiss him again on the lips.

It was just as soft as before, but Mickey made sure to deepen the kiss, wanting to convey everything he still had trouble verbalizing, despite the fact they’d been together for almost 15 years. And maybe, he wanted to capture that taste on his lips that was so distinctly Ian. He tightened his hold on his waist and brought his husband closer feeling as if his breath was being taken away, just like it seemed to everytime they kissed.

He heard a distant ‘daddy’ and Ian pulled away too quickly.

“What’s up, Jamie?” Ian asked. 

Mickey looked at him and then down at their son who was looking up at them with his big brown eyes a half eaten strawberry in one hand and a smear of sticky redness around his mouth. He made a motion to be picked up and Mickey reached for him before Ian could move. He winced when he felt the wet strawberry graze his cheek as Jamie hit him in the face with it.

One thing about having kids that Mickey would never understand was that they tended to find food everywhere and they were always sticky.

“Where’d you get that strawberry, little man?” Mickey asked wiping the sticky residue from his cheek.

“Softie.” Jamie said pointing into the living room. Softie was his way of saying or referring to anything comfortable, like the sofa, which is where Mickey assumed he got it from. How a strawberry got into the couch was a question he’d rather not ask. Mickey moved to take it away, but was too slow since Jamie popped the rest of it in his mouth and smiled innocently.

“I dropped one of the bags of groceries on the couch earlier. I guess some strawberries fell into the couch. Do you want me to take him?” Ian asked wiping at Mickey’s cheek again, which made him wonder if he still had smeared strawberry juice on his cheek. 

Mickey grinned, “you’re making dinner, sweetcheeks, and I expect my dinner on the table in 10 minutes.” 

Ian rolled his eyes and went back to cooking as Mickey went to grab a beer from the fridge, wiping again at his face. He sat down at the table and placed Jamie on his lap. He watched Ian move around the kitchen quickly and efficiently, glad his husband liked cooking so much since he hated it and could only make basic necessities. He could get by, but Ian was the best. Well, if he was being honest, Carl was the best - surprisingly - but he was usually at work by now, trying to work his way up to becoming a detective, so he was always willing to work nights.

“How was your day?” Ian asked placing the noodles back into one of the larger pots on the stove and then dumping in the sauce. 

“It wasn’t great. I hate that new guy. There’s something about him that’s just...creepy. Your brother pissed off some customer, surprise surprise and I had to clean up the mess...plus I had to stay late cause some rich fucker couldn’t be bothered to make it there before we closed. I always hate when the kids are the last ones at daycare. I worry about that...Anyway, you never told me what’s for dinner. What you makin’ Betty Crocker?” Mickey rambled wanting to change the subject.

“Alfredo, salad, garlic bread, and red velvet cake for dessert. I was going to do chocolate covered strawberries with the kids after dinner for a snack tomorrow.” Ian said going back to stirring what Mickey now knew to be the red velvet cake.

“Sounds good.” Mickey said watching as Jamie scooted off his lap and ran upstairs. He smiled slightly wondering where the kid gets so much energy after playing all day.

“How was saving people’s lives?”

“Typical.” Ian shot him a grin while pouring the batter into a pan.

“You know...what you said before; about celebrating Valentine’s Day…” 

“Yeah?”

“We celebrated it once.” 

Ian glanced up frowning slightly and then a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. He looked sheepish and ducked his head in embarrassment, “as a general rule, I’ve tried to block out that section of our...I wasn’t myself, you know.”

Mickey frowned debating if it was worth arguing with Ian over his statement. “Ian, you know that no matter what version you are, I’ll fucking love you, right? No matter what.” 

Ian smiled softly as he continued to bustle around the kitchen. Mickey watched him for awhile drinking his beer and feeling settled for the first time all day.

Once he stuck the cake in the oven, the Alfredo was simmering on the stove, the salad placed on the table, Ian sat down next to Mickey.

He reached forward and grabbed his hand with a soft look decorating his features. “I wasn’t myself then...but I knew you loved me. Just like I know you love me now and I love you no matter what life throws at us. Just like how I know you have always been the only thing I’ve ever wanted. Even when I don’t know who I am, I know I can trust you.”

Mickey had to look away from the intensity of emotion in Ian’s eyes and down at the half peeled beer label. 

“You remember that Valentine’s Day?”

“Vaguely. It’s difficult to remember what I do when I’m…” Ian made a crazy motion with

his hand and Mickey grabbed at the limb wanting to get him to stop. 

“You’re not crazy.”

“I can be.”

Mickey smirked, “and I can’t?”

Ian grinned cautiously and then shrugged, “You did beat up two of my boyfriends…”

“Was the fucking geratric-viagra-chomping dick really your boyfriend?”

Ian chuckled, “I had to watch you with Byron.”

“For two fucking weeks.”

“And Svet.”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed, “You done?”

Ian sensed the change in demeanor and grasped his hand, “I’m sorry.”

“I guess you’re forgiven. It’s Valentine’s Day after all.” Mickey said sardonically.

Ian leaned forward and kissed him hard on the lips, “Good, cause I have another surprise for you when the kids go to bed.”

Mickey grinned lecherously as Ian got up and began to finish making dinner. He watched him as he hurried through the tasks and allowed his mind to wander back to that Valentine’s Day he’d last watched Ian cook dinner for him, when he’d observed from afar as Ian struggled, much like their relationship at the time.

He’d seen Ian cook him dinner a million times since then, but this time it felt different somehow. Ian caught him staring a few times and shot him shy smiles back, and Mickey responded with soft grins of his own. He was content drinking his beer and gazing at him as he moved through the kitchen they both knew so well.

He felt safe in the presence of his husband, sitting in the kitchen, neither needing to be anywhere specific, and just being together. 

He realized that while many things had changed about their lives and in their relationship in the last 10 years, the way they felt for one another always remained consistent. While it was something Mickey had doubted a decade earlier, he’d always known Ian was it for him. Even if Ian wasn’t always fully there mentally or physically.

He knew in another 10 years they’ll be enjoying another Valentine's Day as a couple and another after that because together is how they’d remain forever. For better or for worse, through bloody fights and whispered promises, this was where they were always supposed to end up. 


End file.
